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Chapter 4

The Story

The Authors

Oh, it's just another day, chimed in the policemen
For the scribblers of sundry rhymes!
Heartbreak and madness and syph-i-lis
And the ver-i-tas fruit of the vine!
Who else but we can combine the
Apollonion Dionysian and Mercurial
While wearing silk shirts drenched in lavender water
with languors best described as Arthurial?

A Recovering "Sensitive Boy"

From deep within the confines of their collective ancestral memories sprang
forth a cadre of winged Cherubs who crowned them with laurel wreathes and
poured forth the sweet nectar of Bacchus into large gilded goblets that had no
stems. (The entire draught must be consumed ere the goblet can be put down) Two
more of the cherubs brought forth a lyre which he proceeded to pluck to the
accompaniament of another playing the double flute. Words and wine flew freely
in the Taffylicious fumes.

Lanark

So pastoral, so divine a mix of agape and eros, so out of the
secret daydreams of a committed Classics major was this scene, that those
mischevious children of Pan, the goat-legged satyrs and fauns which hide in the
cracks and corners of things and never ever ever come out to play anymore (for
fear of being captured and forced to guest-star anomalously on some future
episode of The X-Files or, worse, Suddenly Susan...) and all
their friends and familiars, hamadryads, saucy nymphs, brownies and goblins and
those quaint talking moles indigenous to the children's literature of the
British Isles, all came hopping and skipping and piping from under the hedges
and beneath the undulating grasses, even the Teddy Bears left off from their
famous picnic and came wriggling forward, and thus it was that representatives
of the whole diverse fauna of the woodlands came to surround Monty and the
policemen-turned-poets with an enormous daisy-chain and to regard them with
huge, round eyes spinning and glowing with fairy-dust and good cheer.

Philip

From deep on the other side of the loading dock Muffy began to growl. The high
pitched singing of the quartet of dancing driads were boring a messy hole into
the center of his brain pan. he began to float haphazardly around the room
bumping into the walls and shaking his head with deep neck broken crackles in
an effort to dislodge the high pitched squeal from within his ears. The growl
rose in pitch and intensity to become a howl.
Back in the taffy tanks the lobsters were awakened from their refreshing
slumber and as one they began to rise anew from the tanks.
Nearly but not quite free from her delicious bonds Barbara let out a little
whimper.(She was busy trying to gnaw her way through the goofy grape flavor
that bound her ankles. Thankful at least that her weekly yoga classes were
fnally coming in handy for something other than giving her good posture and
several as yet unexplored levels of tantric bliss)

Lanark

Meanwhile, inside the giant salt-water tank, things were beginning to heat up
for the still-recovering lobsters.